


Halfway Out of the Dark

by sonictrowel



Series: Long Night in the Blue House [18]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Humor, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 02:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: “Oh my god,” Milly said again, and she was doing that companion thing (or maybe it was a young girl thing? River certainly didn’t do it,) the one where the voice just kept going up and the hands were sort of clapping, but there was something slightly predatory about it.  “It’s not this you, is it?  Is it little young Doctor?”“I wasn’t young!  —Or little!” he objected.“But you looked it,” she said, not quite phrasing it as a question.He frowned helplessly.





	

The Doctor donned his mits and bent to retrieve a steaming dish of artichoke dip from the oven.  He smiled a little to himself while he moved about the kitchen, listening to shouts of alternating enthusiasm and despair coming from the lounge as he loaded up a tray with food.  It had been quite a lot noisier in the little blue house, with both Milly and Nardole staying on more or less full-time over the two years since the odd little man had been reunited with his head.  The Doctor didn’t mind it.

“Oh _no,”_ came Milly’s outraged voice from the next room, “not in the deep frier!  You idiot, the dough’s too heavy, it’ll be a great big lump of grease!”

“Look at this one, he’s going for the ice cream machine,” said Nardole, and they both groaned.  “Never use the ice cream machine!”

“Can’t we get any telly from this bloody millennium?” Milly whinged, looking to the Doctor as he came into the lounge and set the tray on the table.  “These morons are—  _oh, no,”_ she turned back to the screen before he could answer, “No, you can’t just throw mascarpone on it!  Big load of tasteless cheese whip on your bloody greaseball, yeah, _good_ one!”

“He thinks a bit of mint’s going to save it, bless,” said Nardole.

Milly looked away from the screen in evident disgust, leaning over the table and jabbing a slice of baguette into the dip.  “Mff,” she said around a mouthful, “Why aren’t you on there, Song?  Could show these nobs a thing or two.”

“Oh, shit,” said the Doctor.  He’d forgotten about that somehow.

“What?” Milly asked.

“Ah— nothing,” he said quickly, “let me go tell River the food’s done—”

“Oh my god, you were on it.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You were!” Milly squealed.  “Well put it on, put it on!”

“Now, hang on, we really don’t need to—”

“No going back now,” said Nardole.  “You’ve told her, it’s too late!”

 _“Oh my god,”_ Milly said again, and she was doing that companion thing (or maybe it was a young girl thing? River certainly didn’t do it,) the one where the voice just kept going up and the hands were sort of clapping, but there was something slightly predatory about it.  “It’s not _this_ you, _is_ it?  Is it little young Doctor?”

“I wasn’t young!   _—Or_ little!” he objected.  

“But you looked it,” she said, not quite phrasing it as a question.

He frowned helplessly.

_“Put it on!”_

“I— er... _River!”_ the Doctor called, fleeing the lounge and the incoherent shouts that followed him, “Food’s done!”

He popped his head round the study door and she looked up from her reading, instantly choking on a laugh when she saw his face.  “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” he said, attempting to recalibrate his eyebrows.

She gave him a look.

“They found out I was on that cooking show.”

“Oh!” River’s face lit up with amusement again.  “I remember that!”

“Are you going to come out?”

“Mm,” she tapped her fingers against her jaw.  “After we watch you, can we do the one with all the shirtless muscly ninjas?”

“I think today was a mistake,” the Doctor grumbled dully, “I’m going back to bed now.”

River laughed and stood up from her chair, steering him back to the lounge by the shoulders.  “Don’t worry darling, you’re still prettier.”  Just before they entered the room, she gave his arse a pinch and he made a very undignified yelping sound.

“No, search for John Smith,” Milly was muttering under her breath, standing behind Nardole’s armchair and looking over his shoulder at a handheld computer.

“No Doctor Funkenstein?” he asked.  “Doctor Disco?”

She giggled quietly.  “No, I think that’s just this one.”

“Bet there are loads of John Smiths on here,” Nardole mumbled, swiping through a list.

“That’s him!” Milly shouted, jabbing her finger at the screen.

“What,” River said, giving the Doctor a curious look, “have you been showing off pictures of your glory days?”

Milly’s head snapped up at the sound of River’s voice, wide-eyed.

 _God damn it._  “Ah,” the Doctor said, meeting her frozen stare, “that uh, must’ve been the Old Girl, having some fun at my expense when Mils was using the console computer.  Seems that’s a favourite pastime of everyone in this house.”  

Milly’s face reverted to normal instantly.  “What can I say?  She likes me.”

“And she’s quite a good judge of character,” River said with a grin, taking a seat on the sofa while the Doctor let out a slow breath and gradually unclenched his jaw.  The lying part was shite.  Total shite.

“Okay, this is happening,” said Milly, and Nardole gleefully poked the computer screen.  The Doctor sat down next to River, resigned to his fate as the episode started on the telly.  She gave him a look that was half sympathy, half amusement, and rubbed her hand over his knee.

“What one are you?” Milly asked, taking the computer from Nardole as she sat down in the opposite chair and skipped through the intros.  “I’d rather miss the part where everyone’s competing for their dead brother.”

“Yeah, you should have done _Ready, Steady, Cook_ ,” said Nardole, looking back at the Doctor.

The Doctor just frowned.

“Oh, oh there he is!” Milly squealed, and hit play.  

His former self was yammering overconfidently about some half-baked backstory that involved a lot of anachronistic culinary experience, and spinning around on one foot like a drunk on stilts.  

“Oh my god,” Milly cooed, turning back to face him, her eyes huge, “you’re adorable!”

The Doctor slid down the back of the sofa, hoping it would somehow absorb him.

“I think we’ve got matching eyebrows,” Nardole observed cheerfully.

“He must have been saving them all up for this one,” Milly laughed.

River smiled fondly down at the Doctor, slumped so far into the cushions he was about to slide onto the floor.  She reached over and lugged him sideways until his head was in her lap, slowly stroking through his hair with one hand while the other rested on his shoulder.  

Well, maybe he could tough it out.

On screen, the chefs were filing into the kitchen.

“He’s still got the bow tie on!” Milly exclaimed through her laughter.

“Always did like you in a chef’s coat,” River murmured, voice low and quiet.  Oh, she was so very good, his River.  It must have been quite tempting for her to contribute to his semi-public humiliation rather than save her compliments for his ears.  He reached up to pull her hand from his shoulder to his lips, kissing her fingertips.

In the end, the Doctor was caught out in the dessert course— at which point he did feel the need to sit up and defend himself.  

“Damn American judges don’t understand a savoury pudding,” he grumbled.  “Not my fault they’re so uncultured.”

“I told you, _Ready, Steady, Cook_ ,” said Nardole as he scraped the last bit of dip onto his bread.

“It was several steps above the fish fingers,” River supplied diplomatically.

“You were _robbed,_ Mr. Song,” Milly declared.  He wasn’t quite sure if she was having him on or being sincere or a bit of both.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat, “now that we’re done ogling over Bow Tie, I probably have a vid of me playing with Led Zeppelin or…or _something_ with less undignified flailing involved.”

“Nah,” said Milly cheerfully, “Bow ties are cool.  Don’t have to prove anything to us.”

He raised an eyebrow at her turn of phrase, but didn’t comment on it with River there.

“Anyway,” Milly went on hurriedly, “Time for the topless ninjas?”

“When _isn’t_ it?” River said enthusiastically, grabbing the controls.  The Doctor turned his raised eyebrow on her and she winked at him.

“I’ll make tea,” he said, making his escape from the lounge.

He stepped out into the back garden after putting the kettle on.  The “midnight thaw” as they passed a nearby star had begun; it was still right above freezing most of the time, but that felt positively balmy compared to the few years prior.  The star, Delta Nembus, had been steadily growing over that time as Darillium approached the outer edge of its orbit, and was now quite amazing to behold.  It was nearly the size of an Earth full moon, shining pure white, and not advisable to look at directly, though it was far dimmer than Darillium’s “sun.”  When the moons were full as well, the light level was something _almost_ akin to dusk.  After twelve years of night and ever-increasing cold on this rock, it was practically summer.

Many locals had cleared their gardens of accumulated snow with contraptions that looked like snow blowers but dispensed searing-hot air.  The Doctor had futzed with the TARDIS atmosphere fields and achieved a similar effect in one burst.  Luckily he had decided to do it while River was at work, because there was quite a bit of cleanup in the aftermath.

The back door opened and Milly joined him on the patio.

“Got word from me?” he asked without looking back.

“Yeah,” she said, standing beside him and smiling.  “Everything looks good.”

“Anything I’d like to let myself in on, so I know what the hell I’m doing when I’m the one doing it?”

“Evidently not right now.  Sorry.”

“Brilliant.”

“Hey, it’s going right, okay?  Don’t worry.”

“I’ll feel better when I have the stone back.”

“I mean… _technically_ you have it right now.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” the Doctor said, trying to glare at her but reluctantly smiling.

“We _have_ met, yeah?” Milly retorted, leaning her head forward and rocking back on her heels.  “Cheeky’s my middle name, mate.”

The Doctor chuckled.  “What _is_ your middle name?  No, hold on, what’s your _surname?”_

“What— _really?_  Five years and you don’t know my bloody name?”

“I— I know the part I call you by!  I can’t be bothered with,” he waved his hand vaguely, “humany things.  Faces.  Names.“

“It’s Smith.”

“Well, that was underwhelming.”

“So what then, Doctor, you gonna tell me yours?”

“Nope.”

“I figured,” she said lightly.  “You told me something else, though.”  She scuffed her shoe on the stone.  “This is my last year.”

“With us?” he turned to face her in shock.

“Yeah,” she said, still looking down.  “I’ll be defending my dissertation next semester, hopefully, and going back to help you out on the other end.”

“Have you told River?”

“Not yet.  I mean, she knows I should be graduating then, but I haven’t said what I’m going to do.”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “she can hardly expect an archaeologist to try and find work on this bloody rock.  It’s a wonder they even have an archaeology program at the university here, honestly.”

“Yeah... I sort of wonder if you might’ve had something to do with that.”

The Doctor groaned.  “I would do a great many things for my wife.  But would I _knowingly_ start an _archaeology_ program?  And ruin the minds of all those hopeful young Darilliumites?”

“Yeah, you would.”

He sighed with a smile.  “Yeah, I would.”

“It’s been great, though.  Staying with you two.”

“Oh, god, don’t start all that rubbish,” he groused, turning her by the shoulder and marching her back toward the house.  “Go and get the kettle.”

“Wait,” she said, turning back.  “Just so you know— you’ll see me again.  Before my original time.”

“Oh,” he said, a little of the tension in his shoulders draining at the prospect.  “Wouldn’t be very me if it weren’t a timey-wimey mess, eh?”

“Nope,” Milly smiled.

“So you’ve already done that, then... and River?  Will she see you too?”

She raised an eyebrow at him and opened the back door.  

“Right,” he sighed. “Spoilers.”

She took off running into the house at the sound of the kettle screeching.

The Doctor looked back into the bright night, over the sloping landscape of snowdrifts shadowed in hues of violet and blue.  The odd red rock formation peeked through, its snowcoat eroded in the last years’ bitter winds.

Halfway out of the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone who has been reading and commenting, you are absolutely wonderful. I love hearing what you think of the story! Thank you!!


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